


You Might Want to Rethink That (I've Been Told I'm Emasculating)

by Anonymous



Category: The Unusuals
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Makeup Dates, Non-Explicit Sex, Teasing, meet the parents, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 21:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12616120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "Dinner that good?""Nah. The makeup sex."





	You Might Want to Rethink That (I've Been Told I'm Emasculating)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyrrhical (anoyo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/gifts).



“Don’t laugh,” Casey’s voice came out muffled from the other side of the dressing room door.

Davis had to smile. Had she been in front of him, he would have at least attempted to stifle it. “I won’t laugh, I promise.”

She opened the door just enough to poke her head out and narrow suspicious eyes in his direction. “This was a terrible idea,” she muttered, then came out properly so he could see the dress she’d picked out. She glanced in the mirror and winced. “I look like–”

“Beautiful,” he interrupted before she could say something like ‘rich’ or ‘snobby’. The dress was a slim green sheath that made her hair look like aflame and her skin glow. “You look beautiful.”

Another skeptical glance from Casey, but he walked forward enough to put his hands on her shoulders and she didn’t shrug him off.

“Not a single encrusted jewel,” he pointed out.

“There is that.” She sounded a little brighter again as she fussed with the straps. “My mother would never wear this.”

“I promise not to embarrass you.” It wouldn’t be the first time he had dinner with her parents, just the first time with Casey also present.

She nodded curtly. “I promise not to embarrass you.”

It was a nice concession to the fact that both of them had things to work on to keep their relationship running smoothly.

“But,” she added, one finger coming up sharply in admonishment, “I choose the next date, and there will be ice cream and no dress clothes or snooty restaurants.”

“They are your parents,” he reminded her but again, couldn’t stop smiling at her. It made her return it despite herself.

“You agreed to go.”

And that was true enough as far as it went. There is no way that Casey would have agreed to dinner with her parents if he hadn’t been willing to accept their summons for review in light of his changed relationship with their daughter.

“Should we mention I’ve been seeing you for months?”

Casey looked thoughtful and hiked her skirts to return to the dressing room. “No. I’m going to get out of this thing so we can pay for it.”

Davis sighed inside. She had enough money to keep a few dresses suitable to the occasion but, as with all things too culturally rich, she seemed to be allergic to the idea in general.

Her parents seemed to agree with him. Estelle Shraeger’s eyes were warm enough to match her smile until they ran over Casey’s dress and found it wanting. But she never lost the pleasant voice or demeanor as she greeted them both.

“Ah, Mr. Nixon. Casey.”

“Mother.” Casey leaned in close for a quick peck on her father’s cheek. “Hi, Daddy.” 

She shot Davis the briefest look over her father’s shoulder he couldn’t quite decipher. A cry for help maybe or just a reminder that he would owe her a very nice date afterward. He made a note to self to get some new action movies for a night in.

“Good evening, sir.” The men shook hands and that was that.

It was all very nice, very formal as they gathered in the appropriate seats around their reserved table at the exclusive restaurant, and Casey started living up to her name and casing the exits surreptitiously before settling in enough to put on her fake smile and peruse the menu.

“I suppose you haven’t managed to talk my daughter into properly utilizing her trust fund?” Estelle Shraeger’s smile never seemed more intimidating.

Casey glared daggers his way, which he ignored. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss my client’s confidential affairs with anyone else without her permission.”

“No, of course, not,” Walter interjected. “But do tell us how things are going in general?”

Or explain how they went from financial manager and very bad client relationship to sleeping with each other.

“He was so cute,” Casey commented. “I couldn’t resist taking him home.”

And she’d promised not to embarrass him.

She caught his glance and sipped her lemon water. Her next smile was on par with her mother’s. “I apologize. It’s been a long day. Things are going fine. Better than fine, actually. And how are things with you?”

It wasn’t a bad subject change, and one she was able to maintain for several turns of the conversation: how the properties were doing, the friends of the family and their various marriage alliances, children, and business, and all of her mother’s glittering parties.

“But enough about me,” Estelle managed after she clearly noticed what Casey was doing.

She shot another desperate glance Davis’ way, and he engaged Walter on matters of economics, good enough that they kept the particulars of Casey’s work to a general statement of affairs at the office and that she was up for a commendation.

“Please, Father, don’t get involved.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he agreed readily, perhaps disingenuously. He most certainly would have done something if she hadn’t asked him not to, but Walter Shraeger wasn’t a bad man or father when he was trying.

“He tries more often than you give him credit for,” Davis pointed out later, after she was kicking off her shoes in his living room with a deep sigh.

“I guess.” She had that miserable haunted look that caught her sometimes, but then she smiled weakly, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d seen because it was completely genuine. “Do you still have that bottle of wine?”

“Coming right up,” he agreed.

“I’m just going to go get changed in your bathroom.” She gestured toward his room.

They’d survived the meet the parents, we’re in a relationship dinner. He was feeling bold enough to suggest, “You could always get changed out here.”

Casey stopped and raised both eyebrows. “I suppose,” she said slowly, “I could use some help getting out of this dress.”

Casey rarely, if ever, needed help with anything, but far be it from him to say anything to that effect.

“I’m a helpful guy.”

And he’d been wanting to take that dress off of her since the first time he’d seen it on. They grinned at each other for a moment.

“Bedroom, now.” She pointed again. “Bring the wine.”

He brought the wine.

“You look amazing in green.”

“I always look amazing,” she countered and pushed him down on the bed.

He barely got the bottle safely deposited on the nightstand. “Didn’t you want a glass?”

“It can wait.”

And then he was getting her dress off and she was working on his suit and shirt, yanking none too gently on the buttons in her way.

“Don’t break them,” he managed when she pulled away for a quick breath. She was already starting to make him dizzy.

“It’d be a shame. I like this suit,” she muttered between kisses. But she did work a little more neatly at getting his shirt open.

“The suit cost a thousand dollars,” he said very seriously.

She looked at him with her equally serious face. “I forgive the suit.” 

Then she kissed him long and slow and like she meant it, and he really, very seriously regretted that they weren’t both naked yet. The friction between them, the weight of her body on his, were all perfect, but he didn’t wait to be able to breathe again to go back to work on her panties and underwear.

“This your idea of a nice night?” He tossed the bra off and kissed her shoulder.

She just snorted derision and shot him a look as her fingers wound tighter in his hair. “This still involves a dress, and I haven’t seen any ice cream.”

“You were being serious.”

“Quite serious. Why are your pants still on? You’re behind.”

He wasn’t behind for long, and finally, finally, she was kissing him hard and pressing down against him, skin on skin, making a small, satisfied sound of effort as she did. Then her hand was wrapped around his erection, and her other hand was raking nails over his scalp, and he was kissing her and she was kissing him back, and neither of them bothered to use any more words.

* * *

Casey was smiling when she got into work the next day. Walsh stared at her suspiciously. He poured his coffee, kept looking, seemingly waiting for her to volunteer an answer to his unspoken question.

“Good morning to you too,” she greeted instead in her most chipper voice. “How’s Beaumont?”

“She’s fine. Dinner was that good?” At least he’d finally spit it out.

“Nah. The makeup sex.” She held out a cup.

Walsh obligingly poured. “Ah. Your boyfriend knows what’s best for him.”

“Got that right.”

“So you’re the dominatrix, right?” he asked with a perfectly straight face.

She nearly hit him with the coffee mug, but Sergeant Brown saved him by walking in at that moment and assigning them a new case.

* * *

“No dress,” Davis said easily, gesturing toward the comfortable couch, the well laid-in stock of pastries and spreads on the coffee table, and a teetering stack of action movies that would make for a worthy overnight marathon.

“Acceptable,” Casey deemed it. Though Walsh would think they were breaking up if he knew they were planning an all-nighter with no sex involved. “Almost as much fun as a stakeout date.” She grinned as she claimed best seat.

“The last stakeout date, you ran out on me.” He offered her the remote.

She thought about letting him “be the man” in the relationship and run the remote control, but hey, he was offering and this was supposed to be the date night that made up for dinner with the parents, so she graciously accepted it and made light with a, “Thank you, kind sir. Now get over here so we can get started.”

He chuckled as he obeyed, and she realized she really did like that sound a lot. It was easy to tell herself she hadn’t actually done something as impractical as fall in love, but it was something more than comfortable and pleasant to snuggle into his solid warmth and start the opening credits on a Bruce Willis flick.

She turned and kissed him soundly for just a moment.

“What was that for?” he asked in his careful voice, the version of it that was almost equal parts exceptionally pleased.

“To make up for the lack of sex later. I kissed you on the stakeout date too.”

“You kissed me to convince Walsh I wasn’t your financial manager too,” he countered in a reproachful tone.

“Hmm. True.” She dragged him down for another longer kiss, then waited for the dazed look to leave his eyes to say, “That’s for that one.”

But then the credits were over and the movie was actually starting, so she hushed him before he could reply and started watching in earnest.

* * *

Davis knew a lot of people could and would resent Casey for the fact that she tended to be more than a little dominating, to always know her mind, and to often expect others to bend to her will. Sometimes he did resent that, and sometimes he admitted to himself he was hopelessly enough in love with her that it didn’t really matter.

Right now was one of those moments he reminded himself that she cared a whole lot more than she let on, and right now, she was totally content just being with him.

Tonight, he’d let her run the show, but, “Next time, I pick the date.”

“You kind of did this time,” she pointed out, mouth half-full of pastry, and whoever put her through finishing school had failed her when it came to proper table manners.

He didn’t mind. He really didn’t.

“Well, I think it might involve a dress.”

Casey made a face. “I hate you,” she replied with no heat. “Where’s my ice cream?”

“In the freezer. Whenever you’re ready for it.”

Something blew up on the television screen and she waved him to silence. “After the credits then.”

He kept staring at her, waiting her out, until finally she groaned and agreed.

“Fine. I’ll keep the dress.”


End file.
